


Daddy Issues

by multifacetedfangirl



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Family Dynamics, Fix-It of Sorts, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is so done With Geralt, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Ooc Geralt, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Revenge, Sassy Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, almost?, ngl, oh and implied, sugar baby Jaskier, this is rated teen for f words just fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifacetedfangirl/pseuds/multifacetedfangirl
Summary: Geralt comes home to Kaer Morhen to find a surprise waiting for him. It's not one that he's going to love.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir
Comments: 47
Kudos: 262
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	Daddy Issues

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the geraskier server, and honestly i was cackling the entire time i was writing this.  
> #giveJaskierRights2020 
> 
> please let me know what y'all think, kudos and comments are lovely!

It had been a long day for Geralt, a long week really. After the nightmare that had been the dragon’s quest, Geralt had thrown himself into his work. It just had to be his luck that the only contracts he was able to secure were for werewolves and drowners. It was as if someone had come in just ahead of him, cleaning everything else out. 

As it was, Geralt was beyond relieved to be stepping into the halls of his home. Maybe a long bath would do him some good. A good meal and lazing in front of his fire wouldn’t hurt either, and Geralt wouldn’t say no to some good conversation with his fath- Vesemir. Roach was stabled and rubbed down and fed and Geralt had no more responsibilities between himself and relaxation. Dropping his saddlebags at the entrance of the keep, Geralt recognized some of the other possessions that littered the floor; Lambert’s cloak, Eskel’s sheath, Aubry’s potion pouch. He snorted at the mess, remembering the havoc that came with more than one Witcher deciding to hibernate during the winter. He says “hibernate” but really it was just an excuse to spend a whole season lazing around and being with family. They had to be careful that everyone didn’t come back at once, and they drew lots to decide who got to stay. It had been a good decade since Geralt had last had a chance to come back, and he wondered if any of the other’s cheated to rig their attempts. In any case, a season in the peace and quiet of Kaer Morhen would do him wonders. 

A long bath in the springs below the keep and a very comfortable nap later, Geralt is feeling fighting fit. His muscles have drained of the tension they held, and he thinks his brain has gone a little dumb. It had to be, he thought, because there was no other explanation for the sight in front of him. Geralt closed his eyes and retraced his steps to try and remember where it was that he had been slipped a hallucinogen  _ inside _ the keep, but came up blank. While his eyes were closed, he thought he might as well make a wish, but when the white-haired witcher opened them, nothing had changed. 

Sitting perched sideways over the chair at the head of table, in the seat unofficially reserved for Vesemir, a place of honor and respect, was Jaskier. Geralt vaguely registered the fact that the bard he had left behind on a mountaintop somewhere in his past was wearing nothing but a disturbingly familiar tunic as he drank from a jeweled chalice.

“Oh hello Geralt, I didn’t know  _ you _ were going to be here.” Jaskier drawled, trading his cup for a couple of grapes sitting on the table. The same table where Geralt had eaten his childhood meals, surrounded by his brothers. Where he had spent evenings poring over books about monsters and maps of the continent. A laugh tore Geralt out of his memories, and he looked again at the man lounging in front of him.

“Goodness, someone would think you’d have seen a ghost the way you’re staring at me, Geralt! Although, a Witcher wouldn’t be this afraid of a little ghostie, now would he? Really, you should close your mouth. Don’t want something to get in there.” Geralt could only stare as the bard crossed and uncrossed his legs, coming very close to giving the Witcher an eyeful, but he didn’t seem concerned at all.

“Why are you- I mean, how- when did- here?” 

“Was there a question in there, dear Witcher? Or am I just supposed to do all the work and guess at what you’re trying to say,” Jaskier smirked, “as usual.” he added icily.

There was no response from the stunned and confused Witcher, and Jaskier heaves a dramatic sigh before starting in on him, 

“You left me there, you know? I had to find my own way down that mountain, and I had no supplies, no help, and no fucking patience left. Did you forget that we had gone up that mountain together? I know that I am an independent man who needs for nothing but you had ALL OUR STUFF GERALT! And I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for you to get over your little bitch fit- I mean seriously, 20 years I give you! The twenty best years of my  _ life _ and you go and throw it all away because you don’t know how to properly communicate with your girlfriend. Pathetic.” Jaskier leaned back in a long stretch and ran his hand through his hair. The movement drew Geralt’s eyes towards a series of bruises along his jaw and neck, and the breath in his lungs choked him a little. 

“So there I was, a poor lonely bard on top of a mountain, with no way down, and who comes along but Borsch! Lovely man, that one.  _ He _ would never abandon a long-time friend for a woman, and he was more than happy to lead me down the mountain. Of course, he had to leave his two lovely friends behind to protect his egg, but the two of us were just  _ fine _ coming alone. He was very concerned about me travelling all on my own after we got down, especially with what the war swinging around the continent and what not, but he’s the one who sent me to this place, yanno?” 

“He told you about… Kaer Morhen?” Geralt’s head spun and he wasn’t sure if his legs were still holding him up. Jaskier flung a hand in negation, and his  _ borrowed _ shirt fell off his shoulder to reveal what looked like handprints. 

“No, no. We spent a couple lovely days in that charming village before he had to go back to his nest, but he told me he knew someone that could keep me safe if I didn’t mind spending the winter holed up in a castle. He didn’t have to ask me twice! I found myself here soon enough, and the rest is history! Or at least it will be once I get the songs circulating.”

Geralt stared dumbly at Jaskier, who was grinning rakishly back at him.

“Vesemir is  _ quite  _ the host, let me tell you. Gets me whatever I need even before I ask for it, and he’s so good about telling me what he’s thinking. Can you imagine? Really, I’m impressed by his communication skills, language to almost rival a bard’s. We don’t have any misunderstandings, and he’s a fan of my music. I really couldn’t have asked for a better companion for an entire winter.” A strong hand fell on Geralt’s shoulder and his knees almost buckled beneath him. 

“Hey kiddo, welcome back.” Vesemir’s familiar voice was like a familiar hug, and Geralt turned weakly towards it, “How’ve you been? Had a good season?” Now that Vesemir was here, surely everything would be righted. Geralt watched as Jaskier put an arm out towards the approaching man, and suddenly he dropped into the chair in front of him. As Vesemir neared Jaskier’s outstretched arm, Geralt had the horrifying realization that the elder Witcher was walking with a slight limp. Geralt could smell no blood, but the gait was decidedly uneven. His stomach dropped and Geralt groaned out loud into his folded arms upon the table. 

“Hello darling,” Jaskier purred, “Good to see you up and about this morning.” Vesemir smiled softly down at Jaskier, and nuzzled into his hand. Geralt was  _ sure _ that he was seeing things when a blush ran across his mentor’s face, and Geralt felt nauseated when his brain started spiraling into explanations. 

“I’ll see you tonight at dinner, Geralt. We can catch up then. It’s good to see you, my boy.” Vesemir had said all of this staring directly at Jaskier, and it seemed to be an afterthought that he’d added on. Geralt didn’t say anything, but he felt a little neglected. When he looked up again, the bard was staring directly at him, and he seemed a little smug,

“Why don’t you go ahead, darling? I’ll be with you in just a minute.” Vesemir gave Jaskier’s palm one last kiss before he walked out of the hall, leaving behind two old travelling partners. Jaskier watched Vesemir leave with a wicked grin on his face, then turned back to Geralt. 

“You know, I didn’t think we’d find each other so soon after what happened. I had hoped not to run into you again for a good half-decade, give us both some space. Afterall, I’m not one to hold a grudge, but some things just fall into place I suppose. Meeting Vesemir was a delightful stroke of luck, and knowing that he’s your, well let’s just cut the bullshit and call him father, is just the cherry on top of my delicious Witchery sundae. I’ll see you around, Geralt. I’m sure I can find  _ some _ time to hear the rest of your pathetic excuses for that day. If you’ll excuse me, I have some  _ business _ to take care of.” Jaskier swung his bare legs around, and landed lightly on the cold stone floors of the keep. As he strode past Geralt, still slumped in his chair, he seemed to pause for a second, thinking. He bent down next to the Witcher, whose white hair seemed to be a perfect match for his complexion, and added with a smirk, 

“Vesemir calls me Daddy.” Final cards shown, Jaskier walked away, victor in a game Geralt didn’t even know they had been playing.

Geralt whined softly where he was left, alone, wondering what he had done to deserve all this, but then remembered that the bard would probably remind him of it all, in detail, over the next few months. 

So much for rest and relaxation.

______________________________________________________

“He’s pretty funny.”

“Knows plenty of drinking songs, and wrote the best ones!”

“Got Vesemir off our backs about training.”

“He can make the best stew, have you seen his stash of spices?”

Geralt was dangerously close to throwing himself off of one of the towers surrounding the place he had grown up in. No one here realized what a threat Jaskier was, the way he had completely incapacitated Vesemir, and if Geralt was being honest with himself, he was actually scared of the conversation the terrifying musician had promised him. The other Witchers only saw the facade that Jaskier put up, the funny little bard that’s only here to play music and make merry. They couldn’t see what a dangerous, petty, conniving, father-seducing, sneak he really was. Oh well. Geralt would have to be the one to stop Jaskier from tearing his family apart, no matter what.

_________________________________________________

Eskel looked at his oldest companion, and heaved a heavy sigh, 

“He’s going to drive himself insane.” Lambert nodded, as they watched Geralt furiously pace back and forth in the halls. They’d had dinner with everyone in the keep, and Geralt had spent the entire time glaring furiously at the bard and making a constipated face whenever he leaned in to talk to Vesemir.

“I wonder what Jaskier has in store for him. He did say that he was going to get even.”

Aubry looked up from the book of poetry Jaskier had given him, the first in a collection that Aubry mean to get through before the bard departed 

“Whatever happens, this is going to be a season to remember.” 

Laughter echoed in the halls of Kaer Morhen, an delightful omen of the events in the months to come.

  
  
  



End file.
